


Flypaper

by helloshepard



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/helloshepard
Summary: Date night with Kasumi and Keiji.





	Flypaper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Flypaper

Kasumi did her best thinking in front of vidscreens, a bowl of popcorn in one hand, and Keiji’s knee in the other. There was _something…inspirational_ about these old Earth movies. These humans, working so hard despite the limitations of their technology, providing the framework for the career she and Keiji had perfected.

“Keiji.”

His eyes were glued to the screen, taking in the ancient bank the thieves had so easily walked into.

“Hm?”

“We should do this one next.” the couch was soft, lifted from a luxury furniture store on Illium that had a habit of letting its managers cut employee hours on a whim. “It looks better than the _Heat_ one.”

Keiji settled back against the couch, stretching his legs out on the soft fabric. The movie had just ended; the credits were rolling as the unlikely couple slipped into the getaway car.

“You just wanna pretend you’re getting married.”

“You know me too well.” Kasumi leaned back to rest her head in Keiji’s lap. “What bank, though? Saffron’s?”

Keiji brushed his fingers against Kasumi’s hood. It had slipped off partway through the movie, revealing dark brown eyes staring conspiratorially up at him.

“What about Kalone’s? They laid off fifty employees last month.”

Kasumi checked her omni-tool. Their rent was due tomorrow. She picked out the correct alias and transferred two thousand credits to their landlady. Sure, they _could_ live in a cheaper place, but this apartment was located in a good spot, right between the unsavory parts of Zakera Ward, and the clean, bright sections frequented by tourists. Plus, this particular landlady had a gift for keeping her eyes closed and ears open. She wasn't yet on the level of informants like Mouse and Wolfie, but she was getting close. 

“Saffron’s is being investigated for using its employee’s retirement funds to host parties for the executives.”

“Tell you what.” Kasumi sat up and headed to the door. “Race you to Tanaka’s. Winner gets to pick the bank.”

__“_ You’re on.” _

* * *

 

Tanaka’s was a small bistro on the edge of Zakera Ward, specializing in asari-fusion fare. Like most people her age, Kasumi hadn’t grown up eating exclusively human food. These kinds of places catered mostly to humans visiting the Citadel from Earth, desperate to tell their neighbors about the exciting, overpriced cuisine on their galactic cruise around the galaxy. The owner, a matriarch who had nicknamed herself Murdock, prided herself on increasingly extravagant names for her menu items. The last time Kasumi had been here, the special was the Silmarillion, some kind of bread wrapped in leaves and covered in thick, rich sauce.

A turian was playing some rollicking tune on the piano, an old Earth song about love and trucks and alcohol.

“See anyone you like?”

Keiji pretended to think, running a finger over the rim of his glass. Tarisian ale was in short supply in this sector of the galaxy, but Murdock always managed to keep a bottle in stock for him.

“Over there.” he gestured to the next booth with a tilt of his head. “Necklace looks like it’s authentic Banes.”

“Nah.” Kasumi personally preferred sparkling water. “A knockoff. Looks good though. Probably from Ferrous over on Eden Prime.”

Murdock sauntered over, red-tinted bottle of ale in hand. She knew enough about them to connect two and two together and get four, but her information was always solid. Reliability was a rarity in Zakera Ward.

“Heard you were looking for a new vacation spot.” Murdock said. “Tired of the Citadel already?”

“Aww Murdock.” Kasumi crossed her legs and leaned back against the soft synthetic fabric. “We were thinking about visiting Earth. Maybe Nome?”

“Don’t bother.” Murdock prided herself on knowing more about Earth than anyone else in Zakera Ward. “Check out New York. Saint George. All better than Nome. Less crowded, too.”

“Heard good things about the banks there.” Keiji said, taking a sip of ale.

Murdock passed them each a menu. Kasumi scanned the flimsy paper. The Simarillion was gone, replaced by an equally decadent meal called the Arcana Warden.

“Fantastic service. Saffron’s especially.” Murdock agreed. “Need another minute?”

“Please.”

Kasumi blinked as the lighting dimmed. Citadel Station was entering its night cycle. The turian switched gears, turning from the chipper song to something slow and romantic.

“Strangners in the Night,” Keiji supplied. “Wanna dance?”

Kasumi laughed. The menu might be different, but their song and dance always ended the same.

Keiji reached over the table to rest his hands on hers.

“I don’t think this is a dancing sort of place, stranger.”

“I saw a human sing this song once.” Keiji slid out of his seat, pulling Kasumi along with him. From the bar, Murdock rolled her eyes. “A tribute to an old story.”

Keiji’s hands were warm against her arm.

“Haven’t I met you somewhere before?”

“I get around.” Keiji left a credit chit on the table. Kasumi allowed herself to be pulled out of the bistro, into the street. It was dinnertime for everyone who kept a traditional 26-hour schedule, and the sidewalks were crowded. “Here and there.”

Kasumi pulled her hood up and leaned forward, letting her lips brush Keiji’s ear.

“You a secret agent or something?”

Keiji chuckled.

“Promise not to tell.” Keiji turned partway, close enough to brush his lips against her jaw. “It’ll be our secret.”

Kasumi took charge, pulling him past the shops and markets, down to the atrium. It was quiet there; the artificial birdsong was a pleasant hum in the greenery-filled background. They passed another couple, two drell wrapped around each other on a stone bench.

“You know what?”

Kasumi turned to face Keiji. Her partner’s expression was blank, carefully constructed apathy that didn’t suit him one bit. Kasumi stared, scrutinizing his face.

“What?”

Keiji sat on the artificial stone bench and pulled out the Tarisian ale. He finished the bottle with one swig, tossing it into the recycling bin disguised as a hedge. The ghost of a smile passed over his mouth.

“I think…” Keiji leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “If you make it back to the apartment before I do, I’ll make you breakfast in bed.”

“Pancakes?”

“Pancakes _and_ bacon.” Keiji pressed a kiss to her cheek and bolted for the door. “With real green onions! And rice!”

_“Deal.”_


End file.
